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Strangers in Fiction	By : Ambrosia Category: M through R > Matrix, The (All) > Matrix, The (All) Views: 1536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Matrix Trilogy or Incident at Blood Pass...except my own Original Characters. I make no money from writing this story.

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Strangers in Fiction
Mouse looked at the magazine pinup, taking in the luscious beauty before his eyes. The “Woman in Red.” She had cherry lips and clothes, what clothes she had on. Her blonde hair was swept from her flirtatious dark eyes and strong eyebrows. Lace held the gorgeous sweep of hypnotic breasts, still on the page when he imagined them heaving with lustful breaths as she moaned. Her sweet red heels with spikes that stabbed into his loins capped those shapely legs which flowed down the page and went on forever.
As much as he desired her, every time they met in a loaded program, he left satisfied physically and mentally, but there was one thing none of his programming could fulfil, no matter how hard he tried to fill in every detail and even attempts to create pseudo-A.I. He always left feeling hollow inside. Physically, he left exhausted and sated. Mentally, he’d enjoyed their exertions and improvised clever pleasures. Emotionally, he was bereft. He wasn’t looking for a commitment or a real girlfriend either. Too complicated. No woman on board the ship would have him, a lothario-programmer. Back in Zion…well, he was hardly ever in Zion and he had no interest in long-distance or even on-again-off-again relationships.
He lounged against the crated, waiting for Morpheus, Neo and the others to return from their visit to the Oracle. Neo…was he really the one, like Morpheus thought? Hard to say. He grinned, remembering the thrill of anticipation watching him in the jump program the other day. Everyone was disappointed he hadn’t made it, especially Mouse. He’d have bet money on Neo, he’d been so sure he would’ve made the jump. He was already so fast, working his mind around the limits of the Matrix even before he consciously did so.
The Oracle was the one Morpheus took everyone to see after they’d been unplugged. When she’d met Mouse, she’d smiled at him like his grandmother and took him into a hug. Taken aback and startled by the affection, he’d hugged her back, reminded of his own grandmother. His or not, he’d enjoyed the hug, brows furrowed in mild confusion anyway. She smiled when she pulled away and he worried when he sawher wipe a tear away from her eyes. She’d said it was just a little dust and he took her at her word. She looked into his eyes, somewhat sadly, then deeper. Then she said, “One day you will die. Everyone does. But when you do, you will find new life…and perhaps, love. If you’re open to it.” Thoroughly confused and slightly depressed, Mouse left, cookie in hand. He’d decided to ignore her dire words, instead throwing himself into his hobbies when not working his duties for Morpheus.
Namely, the “Woman in Red” and other beauties he devised. He preferred blondes, like the one on the page before him. Its not that he disrespected women so much that he respected his desires. A hedonist through-and-through. He’d seen what happened to those who denied themselves, like Cypher. Damn uptight dude couldn’t keep his thoughts off Trinity half the time, though she never seemed to look at any of the other crew that way.
Mouse took a deep breath and expelled his thoughts of the others along with the breath, refocusing on the Woman in Red, taking the time to appreciate her luscious curves. He drew in a different kind of breath and suddenly wished that Tank and Dozer weren’t keeping an eye outside.
A strange tingling crept across his skin and for a moment he thought it was the erection threatening from the base of his spine when his phone rang. Shit! He whipped itout, flicking it open as he pulled it to his ear.
“It’s a trap, get out!” came Dozer’s frantic voice. Adrenaline surged, pumping through his mind and firing his reflexes for survival. He sprang up from his seat and went straight to the window, pulling the curtains – which were bricked over.
He felt the sting of tears well in his eyes as panick set in. No one who faced an Agent had lived and while he would prefer to run, he felt the rock in his gut telling him it wouldn’t be an option this time.
Option two: go down fighting. Maybe if he pumped them full of lead he'd be able to get past them. He opened the largest crate which held the big guns, loading and readying both automatics in either hand, turning to fire into the door and officers with a roar of protest. He would live. Live!
The door burst open just as he pulled the triggers, ratcheting guns blazing in his hands and deafening him at the same time. He didn’t care. He heard and felt nothing, his entire existence narrowed to this single moment, as though he had all the time in the world to aim, fire.
His first few bullets tore through the men at the fore, but as they fell he saw – too late – the men behind them, firing at will. He felt no impact,registering only the way his boy jerked to one side, having little to do with the weapons he wielded. Still he fired as pain blossomed finally in his chest, shoulders and stomach. Determined not to go down without taking more with him, he kept firing as he distantly registered the impact of the wall behind him against his back and the hard slide down the rough surface before impacting his ass on the floor.
For a moment the room was still. Quiet. He saw the men’s lips moving but heard as though from a distance. They seemed to be disinterested in him, most of the men moving up the stairs outside the room while three of them swept into the room, looking for the others. He coughed, coppery warmth filling his senses.
Mouse knew he was dying. His hazel eyes stared to the front, registering the Woman in Red with a smile on his matching crimson lips. How ironic, he thought. Dying, I finally match the woman of my dreams.
A flash caught his attention in the doorway and one of the three guards went down, arching his back as he fell. When he landed he ceased to move. Though he found he could no longer move even his eyes and his vision began to darken, it narrowed to what looked like a dream.
A woman with a Beretta in either hand strode into the room, as though in slow motion. He had all the time in the world to take her in, the dark hair which flowed uncharacteristically down her back in thick waves. Her features were beautiful, strong arching brows, eyes hidden behind violet round glasses and thick classic lips in burgundy lipstick. Her pale neck swept down in clean lines to, of all things, a red lace dress. It hugged her full breasts and swept down her shapely torso and flared around hips he would love to sink his hands into if he weren’t bleeding out on the floor. The hem of her dress was flying in gorgeous waves of intricate scarlet lace over thigh-high boots in black leather, matching the black trench coat covering the rest of her.
The muzzle of her twin guns flashed again, taking down the man across the room and nearest Mouse’s still form. Without looking at him, she shifted her left arm to point the gin across her body and shot the last man standing to her far right.
Alone in the room, she dropped her guns and stode to Mouse’s still form. “Mouse…mouse!” she whispered urgently, lifting her hand to thumb open one of his eyelids. His lips twitched into a semblance of a smile but he otherwise didn’t move.
I have got to be dreaming, he thought to himself. The woman in red lifted her hand and stared at it, furrowing her brow. Grunting softly, as if in pain, her hand shifted in appearance, looking like the green-on-black Code with which they ‘saw’ the Matrix feed when viewing from the ship.
Disbeleiving what he saw, he marveled still as she swept her hand through hisbody, causing no small amount of pain, drawing out each bullet, the one in his lungs the last. He coughed suddenly surprised beyond belief as he did so. Shouldn’t he be dead?
He looked up at the beauty before him, large eyes wider and disbelieving. He continued to cough helplessly, trying to rid himself of flooding blood and the awful alien sensation of a hand in his lung. She shifted her position, drawing him into a nearly-sitting position and cradling his head while he coughed, turning him to his side as he emptied his lungs as though they were the contents of his stomach.
Giving a couple coughs, he asked, panic in his voice and not far from his actions, “How the fuck did you do that?” He braced himself on the floor, coughing up more blood and gasping for air besides.
She hifted to sit on her heels beside him, one hand on his arm. “I saw the sequel, there’s no time to explain, come with me or this is where your story ends.” She stood. Pulling him up with her.
“The Agents –
“No time, they’ll miss us if we’re quick. Come with me if you want to live.”
Ewildered and with no small amount of concern for his friends – more like his family – followed the strange woman.
He heard a bellow as he entered the stairway after her, soming from somewhere upstairs. “Morpheus,” he breathed, moving t start up the stairs. The woman grabbed his arm and spun him back to face her, grabbing him by both shoulders.
“Trust me, he’ll be fine,” she said desperately, tugging him to follow. “Let’s go, we’re running out of time!” she dragged him into the next room across from the hall.
This room was just as dingy as the others but held one big difference; a large hole in the center of the room which seemed to suck the existence of the floor into itself. There was a wind which suddenly swept through his hair and clothing as he stepped into the room. He looked at the mysterious woman-in-red, watching the wind whip her hair, coat and dress around.
“What is this?” he yelled, a hint of fear making his voice tight.
She smiled and shouted over the wind, “Let’s just say it’s time for you to ‘follow the white rabbit’ and leave the Matrix behind forever.” He looked at her incredulously.
“Are you from Zion?” He cocked his head to one side, holding his glasses in place when they threatened to blow off his face.
“No! Jump!” He looked in fear, hesitant to follow the strange woman, even if she did save his life. As he was looking over the edge, he felt an impace and was airborne.
The hole in the floor howled in his ears as he fell down into it, all light suddenly lost, nothing bbut his screams of terror and the wind shrieking all around him in the darkness.
Just as fear abated and he began to wonder if he’d really died in that trapped room and this was hell, he knew nothing more.
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Strangers in Fiction